


Encore

by runicmagitek



Category: Final Fantasy VI
Genre: F/M, Flirting, Humor, Memories, Mid-Canon, Mild Angst, Past Relationship(s), Pining, Pre-Relationship, Promises, Unresolved Tension, World of Ruin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 09:14:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13831086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runicmagitek/pseuds/runicmagitek
Summary: The opera house was once an escape for Setzer. Even that's not enough to find solace in the ruined world, though perhaps a certain blonde could change his mind.





	Encore

There would come a time when regulars at a tavern traded drinking stories, sharing the atrocities of life and forever attempting to one-up each other. When that time presented itself, Setzer was sure to mull over his scotch and mention the one time a _dragon_ —of all things—made its home center stage at the opera house.

Setzer didn’t blink an eye at life on a good day, but searching for survivors amidst the ruin was far from ideal. The sheer audacity of events they encountered over the year floored even him. None of it was funny at the time. Still, Setzer stashed away such moments to retell in the distant future. Someone would find humor in them and offer him a drink in exchange. Preferably when the opera house was rebuilt, just to be sure.

Until then, the case of the dragon was, in fact, terrifying.

“You found a _what_?” Setzer uttered, nearly choking on his saliva.

“Dragon,” Edgar repeated himself.

“You know!” Sabin flapped his arms. “Big, scaly beast that flies and stuff!”

Setzer sank into his seat. “Uh huh….”

“May or may not breathe fire!”

“Yes, that’s not exactly winning me over in the going-off-to-aid-you endeavor.”

“We need the numbers,” Edgar reminded him.

After smacking his face and dragging his palm over his eyes, Setzer sighed. “Do I _really_ need to go?”

“Do you have any better ideas?”

“Oh yes. Stay up here and make sure a dragon doesn’t wreck the Falcon.”

“You know, for a gambler, you’re not making a convincing argument for staying behind.”

“If _I_ get eaten, who’s going to fly the damned airship?!”

“Oh, that’s easy.” Sabin nudged Edgar. “This guy!”

While perhaps not the intention, Sabin’s words were enough to rouse Setzer off his ass to ensure he threw Edgar forward before the beast made a snack out of himself.

“If I die,” Edgar grumbled back to Setzer as they entered the opera house, “ _you_ _’re_ inheriting my kingdom.”

“And I’m sure it will sell for a pretty gil to the highest bidder,” he replied with a smirk.

Impresario broke their conversation with his own hysterical banter. The mad ravings of a dragon creating a hoard on stage bounced off both the interior walls and Setzer’s head. It was a suicide mission, though truth be told, a sliver of him was curious. Some aspects needed to be seen before they were believed.

“How the _hell_ in this godsforsaken world did it even _get_ in here?” Edgar questioned while they peered down from the mezzanine.

“Trapdoor?” Sabin offered.

“Better yet, how did no one _notice_ it at first?!”

“It might be sick,” Setzer mentioned, drier than ever. “Or lost. Maybe even both. I can’t imagine a dragon would be interested in hoarding instruments and costume pieces.”

Celes never added to the banter. Setzer almost forgot she was accompanying them. She loomed in silence like a bringer of death, hand upon her rune blade’s hilt and icy eyes locked on her target.

“Let’s be done with this,” she eventually said when the twins rambled too long about the origins of the dragon.

The three men stood straighter, nodding before the former Imperial officer. _Suppose some habits die hard_ , Setzer mused as they followed Celes’ lead.

 

* * *

 

With the creature slain, Edgar and Sabin worked with the remaining stagehands to remove the corpse from the stage. From the stories Cyan spoke of in regards to Sabin, Setzer was willing to bet the monk could haul the dragon over his shoulder and call it a day. Thus Setzer lingered behind. Let those with actual muscles take care of the physical tasks. For now, Setzer relished the solitude and the quietness that followed.

The last time he wandered the exquisite halls of the opera house, the establishment buzzed with patrons. Through drinks and amusement, he conversed with familiar faces, trusted contacts, and those he considered close enough to even call friends. A slight smile and chuckle surfaced on his tired lips—he thought of that letter he once penned for Maria.

Perhaps now she realized his advances were beyond that of a fanatic. One last attempt to win her over and bestow that break she deserved several performances ago. But the path trodden with Maria had always been rocky. Not even Setzer predicted the outcome of that night.

He sighed upon entering the private box which had once been his. The sight of polished wood and pristine satin beneath a layer of dust bubbled forth memories. He recalled a budding opera singer with the stars in her eyes. Setzer showered her with praise and adoration and Maria batted her eyelashes and giggled behind a fan. Each night, he devised new ways to win her attention.

Foolish. All of it. He fell back onto juvenile tactics, something Darill would have approved of. But Maria wasn’t Darill and vice versa. He deserved the cold, silent treatment when they crossed paths briefly in the ruined world, not too long before his reunion with the others in Kohlingen. The damage had been done; Maria reminded him as much with a splash of wine in his face. Setzer’s attempts to apologize or rekindle what was never there were paper thin.

And now the stage was broken and charred. Setzer tore his eyes away and resumed meandering the halls.

His wanderlust brought him backstage. On a single hand he counted the times he slipped back there to see Maria. Or was it two? It no longer mattered. An anxious hand ran through his messy hair. Perhaps it would have been in his best interest to remain on the Falcon if it meant avoiding the memories he recalled like old scars.

The echo of heels clicking snapped him out of his toxic thoughts. He peered past tattered curtains and hitched his breath.

On the stage was Celes, assessing the damage and the empty seats.

Time never marred that particular memory. Setzer sipped his scotch, leaning into the railing from his box and smiling when the aria began. He should have noticed the nuances. Maybe anxiety chewed at her nerves and tossed her stomach upside-down from knowing what would transpire by the end of act one. Regardless, he basked in that soprano tone. He yearned to have that exact voice whispering in his ear. He continued to dream of that performance—of the woman alone center stage now.

And when she hummed that melody, Setzer widened his eyes and hoped he wasn’t imagining a damn thing.

Celes made it clear to everyone, both verbally and physically, that she never enjoyed a single second in the plot to sway him to their side. She loathed the dress, the makeup, the stage dramatics, and everything in between. After all, she was a General—or formerly one—and was above the most ridiculous of feminine things, never mind theatrics.

She never uttered disliking the song itself. Not to Setzer recollection, anyways.

The aria was a gentle vibration on her lips. Setzer made sure to still his breath to witness every note. Her performance was near perfect with several hiccups in the precise melody. For once, it mattered little to Setzer.

As Celes finished her impromptu performance, Setzer applauded. She flinched and snapped her head to eye him.

“Lovely,” Setzer said, emerging onto the stage. “Marvelous in every way.”

A splash of blush lined her stern face. “What are you doing here?”

“Did you forget the part where we disposed of a dragon? Or how Edgar _insisted_ I was to accompany—”

Celes huffed. “I meant _here_ , this very instance.”

He tilted his head. “Am I not allowed to peruse the opera house, let alone listen to a lady enjoy the solitude and a song?”

“Not so much solitude if you’re sneaking around.”

“ _Sneaking_? Celes, I’m hurt.”

She turned away, eyes set to her fidgeting hands. Setzer’s smirk faded and he approached her with caution.

“Forgive me, I didn’t mean for my praise to double as mockery.” He stopped several feet away from her side in hopes to catch her eye. “I’ve heard of many performers in my time, right on this very stage. Your voice was by far one of the more memorable experiences.”

“You’re trying to flatter me.”

“I’m _trying_ to compliment a woman who doesn’t seem to have ever been told of how extraordinary she truly is.” Setzer sighed, about to admit defeat when an idea popped into his head. “You know _how_ to sing, don’t you?” Her blue eyes flicked to the corner and latched onto Setzer. “I didn’t think the military would bother handing out voice lessons.”

After a pause, Celes lifted her head. “It was to build character and prepare aspiring officers. No one takes a superior seriously when they don’t know how to inspire and command with their tongue alone.”

Setzer raised an eyebrow. “So you they taught you to _sing_?”

“They taught us how to warm up our voices, project from our stomachs, and control pitch and volume. I always excelled in those lessons.” He swore a slight smile graced her lips. “And I did get away with singing a few songs.”

How he longed to be a fly on the wall to witness all of it. “I’m sure you were excellent.”

“Was better than the tone-deaf idiots who thought they could be more than foot soldiers.” Celes scoffed. A firm line returned to her mouth. “A moot point now with no army to command.”

“You’ve helped rally us, though,” Setzer said, daring to step closer. “You caught my attention, too, may I remind you.”

Her cheeks warmed up further, yet she averted her gaze. “We just needed a means to arrive at Vector.”

“Ah, I wasn’t referring solely to your stage antics, _ma cherie_.”

Her complexion rivaled with a Bomb—Setzer couldn’t distinguish if that was positive or not. Blue eyes widened, then narrowed onto Setzer with tense eyebrows looming above.

“What do you want, Setzer?”

“Nothing,” he said in a beat, donning his best poker face. Even the former Imperial officer fell for the bluff. “Stating the obvious. Nothing more.”

As the redness diminished from her skin, Celes scanned him over and softened her expression. “You… truly enjoyed my singing?”

“Amongst many things, yes.”

“ _Me_? Not Maria?”

If only she was privy to half of the troubles which circulated around the opera singer. “Yes,” Setzer replied, free of hesitation. “You.”

Did something glimmer in her eyes? The broken spotlights spilled no light upon her or else Setzer would have blamed it on that. _Has no one sung high praise to you before?_ Setzer mused. _Were they all petrified to confront you?_ But Setzer had flown through thunderstorms before with the wind hollowing and the rain soaking through his layers—a frozen blizzard didn’t frighten him.

“You’re too kind,” she said once the silence grew stale between them.

“I only speak the truth. If anything, I apologize for my intrusion. At least you now better understand my _sneaking_ , as you put it?”

Celes nodded, then bit her lip briefly. “You would have liked it better if I was singing, though?”

There were thousands of alternatives Setzer preferred over her mere humming, but he disposed of the thoughts. “You could say that.” He smirked. “Are you offering?”

This time, Celes didn’t flinch at his teasing. “Perhaps when this is all over?”

“What’s that?” He fluttered his eyes, swearing he imagined her offer.

“You want to hear me sing again, yes? Like Maria?” She closed the space between them, leaving a meager gap left. “When we stop fighting and the world’s at peace—”

“You would do that for me? You’d sing for me again? Just me?”

With a deep inhale, Celes nodded. Setzer couldn’t stop himself from scooping her hand up into his, delighted with the lack of twitching in those worn, yet surprisingly delicate fingers.

“You’d promise me?” he whispered.

She licked her dry lips before parting them and he hitched his breath.

“I promise,” Celes said.

With his eyes fixed on hers, Setzer bent forward to plant a tender, lingering kiss on the back of her hand. “Thank you.”

Neither of their gazes strayed from the other. Celes’ eyes were the shade of the sky on a cloudless, sunny day. Had they always been so blue? Setzer longed to lose himself in those eyes.

“ _Oh_ and what is _this_?!”

Setzer jerked back and Celes snapped her hand away. He scanned the empty theater to pinpoint the origin of that disruptive yell. Up by the mezzanine railing stood Sabin and Edgar, the latter swaying about and—from the tone of his voice, anyways—grinning.

“Celes and Setzer,” he continued to tease in a sing-song quality, “all alone in the opera house! I see how it is! Leave the heavy lifting to us so _you_ can have a moment alone with—”

“Uh,” Sabin cut in, far quieter in comparison, yet audible, “I’m pretty sure I did all the lifting.”

Edgar flailed at his brother. “Quiet, you! That’s not the point!”

“And what are _you two_ doing sneaking about?” Celes demanded. That boom sent a chill up Setzer’s spine; those voice lessons of hers hadn’t gone forgotten.

“Trying to find where the hell the both of you disappeared to, of course!” Edgar leaned further over the railing. “You know, Setzer, if you _wanted_ some alone time with the lady, you could have said something—”

“Best not be getting any ideas in your head that I actually planned this,” Setzer said. “We parted ways and bumped into one another here. Nothing more.”

“Uh-huh. Sure. If that’s what you want to call it.”

“ _Edgar._ ” Celes narrowed her eyes at him and clenched her fist. Setzer took a full step away from her, to his dismay.

“Well, I suppose we can leave you two be and resume wherever it was you left off.” Setzer swore Edgar wiggled his eyebrows. “Unless you _want_ an audience.”

No one slipped another word in. Not when Celes growled and flung her hand in their direction like a backhanded slap in the face. The entirety of the opera house dropped in temperature by twenty degrees as a trail of snowflakes blew towards them. Sabin pounced a shrieking Edgar to escape their doom and they barely succeeded. A barrage of ice exploded against the mezzanine. Splinters of ice and snow glistened in the available light for mere seconds before shattering and dissolving into diamond dust.

Celes inhaled and fluffed her hair over her shoulders. “Anyways,” she grumbled, blue eyes darting to Setzer, “we should head on back.”

Edgar cried out about the additional damage done on top of what they had already inflicted. Sabin attempted to console him with the reminder that at least a purple octopus wasn’t involved. It fell on deaf ears, for all Setzer managed to accomplish was stare upon Celes in awe.

_Wise, fearless, mighty, beautiful,_ and _dangerous?_ He snickered to himself while following Celes out of the opera house. _What_ _’s not to love?_


End file.
